Today was definitely challenging. There is a wreck everywhere I turn. Kitchen? Wreck. Bathrooms? Double wrecks. Living room and bedrooms? Let's not even go there.
Why can't I stay on top of things? Sure, I work full time, have two boys, a husband...but what keeps me from staying on top of the laundry? The toys? I'm not really sure. Most days it bothers me. I mean, REALLY bothers me. I'll get something picked up, turn to another thing, and wham! It's as if I never cleaned up in the first place. I don't see how people like my mom did it all. I wish I could ask her where I've gone wrong. Honestly, I think it has something to do with the time period. 30 years ago there was no email, iPhones, Facebook, or even Twitter. The most exciting night out was a Tupperware party every now and then.
I wish I had a knack for keeping things immaculate. Will that come one day? Who knows. The only thing I can do is keep on trying...
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
In search of fluff
Another attempt at restarting my blog. Will it be the last attempt? Probably not. Between taking care of two active boys, trying to keep up with housework, staying on top of my full time job I have from home, and everything in between it is just difficult to keep up with the fluff.
My baby will turn a year old in 8 days. Yes, single digit. How in the world did that happen? Wasn't he just born? It makes my head spin just thinking about how quickly this year has flown. When I think about Braden's first year and Ryan's first year, there are several differences. I think I paid more attention to the fluff when Braden was a baby. We had professional pictures at 1, 3, 6, and 12 months of age. We've yet to have any done of Ryan. I took naps with Braden when he was tiny. Today I think my brain has forgotten the meaning of the word. And it doesn't end there.
Does this mean I love Ryan any less than Braden? My brain tells me of course not, however my heart feels guilty. I know, he'll never remember. He's a boy and won't really care. I care. I am so much busier now than when Braden was a baby. Does that make me a bad mom? I don't think so at all. But I do realize I need-and want-to have more fluff moments.
Toys are scattered everywhere, Cheerios are stuck to the high chair, that mountain of laundry in the middle of my room keeps growing. When I close my eyes and focus on the important things, it's the fluff: playing a game with Braden, tickling Ryan, snuggling with them both in the recliner. My kids won't remember that I had all of their clothes always folded neatly in their drawers. They won't remember if mom and dad's bed was made every day. They'll remember the trips to the circus, the picnics in the front yard, the wrestling matches in the living room on rainy days. They'll remember their mommy tucking them in at night and whispering "I love you more" in their ears. They'll remember daddy hoisting them on his broad shoulders and feeling as if they're the most important person in the world--and they are. They'll remember feeling loved and cherished and they'll remember how important they are to their parents.
Fluff. It's what memories are made of.
My baby will turn a year old in 8 days. Yes, single digit. How in the world did that happen? Wasn't he just born? It makes my head spin just thinking about how quickly this year has flown. When I think about Braden's first year and Ryan's first year, there are several differences. I think I paid more attention to the fluff when Braden was a baby. We had professional pictures at 1, 3, 6, and 12 months of age. We've yet to have any done of Ryan. I took naps with Braden when he was tiny. Today I think my brain has forgotten the meaning of the word. And it doesn't end there.
Does this mean I love Ryan any less than Braden? My brain tells me of course not, however my heart feels guilty. I know, he'll never remember. He's a boy and won't really care. I care. I am so much busier now than when Braden was a baby. Does that make me a bad mom? I don't think so at all. But I do realize I need-and want-to have more fluff moments.
Toys are scattered everywhere, Cheerios are stuck to the high chair, that mountain of laundry in the middle of my room keeps growing. When I close my eyes and focus on the important things, it's the fluff: playing a game with Braden, tickling Ryan, snuggling with them both in the recliner. My kids won't remember that I had all of their clothes always folded neatly in their drawers. They won't remember if mom and dad's bed was made every day. They'll remember the trips to the circus, the picnics in the front yard, the wrestling matches in the living room on rainy days. They'll remember their mommy tucking them in at night and whispering "I love you more" in their ears. They'll remember daddy hoisting them on his broad shoulders and feeling as if they're the most important person in the world--and they are. They'll remember feeling loved and cherished and they'll remember how important they are to their parents.
Fluff. It's what memories are made of.
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